Waistlines expand and grey hairs appear with age; time and money seem to vanish with the appearance of children; and as relationships mature, the romantic Valentine gesture is replaced with something more…. practical. They do at my house, anyway.
After nearly 20 years together, gone are the days of red roses (never my favorite), fancy dinners (not my style anyway) and romantic getaways (unless you call an out-of-town hockey tournament romantic). This Valentine’s Day, I got something a bit more substantial to mark the occasion.
Dean, hopeless romantic that he is, bought me a new closet. And it was the best gift I’ve gotten in a long while.
We’ve been meaning to update our bedroom closet since we moved into this house. Seven years ago. Seven years of cramming my clothes in baskets and bins at the bottom of my closet. Seven years of messy piles that swallow your favorite jeans, never to return them. (It was so bad, I can only show you the “in progress” picture. The “before” was too much.)
Finally I feel like a grown up. My new semi-custom closet is so well organized and pretty, I can’t help but spend long hours laying in bed admiring its tidy beauty. I may never put the closet doors back on!